


watched the cracks grow wider

by madnessiseverything



Series: tales of narnia [7]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Curse Breaking, Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: There is a ruin on a cliff, up high above the sea. It’s ancient, stone floors overgrown with grass, vines wrapped around broken pillars, very few walls still upright. The sun illuminates all parts of this ruin as it passes overhead, creating a stunning landscape. There is no mystery about this ruin’s origin, historians talking of a long-passed battle that tore down a castle. As simple as that, they say. After all, this country has known many wars.or the one where there is a ruin and someone is bound to figure out that there is a curse to break. someone that might just be caspian.
Series: tales of narnia [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039454
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	1. the ruin

**Author's Note:**

> this is written entirely on a whim, started about two hours ago. hope you enjoy :P
> 
> (title from empires on fire by banners)

There is a ruin on a cliff, up high above the sea. It’s ancient, stone floors overgrown with grass, vines wrapped around broken pillars, very few walls still upright. The sun illuminates all parts of this ruin as it passes overhead, creating a stunning landscape. There is no mystery about this ruin’s origin, historians talking of a long-passed battle that tore down a castle. As simple as that, they say. After all, this country has known many wars.

And yet, there is something there, something that the locals whisper of. Hikers talk of hearing voices, laughter even, as they explore. Some mention seeing phantoms wandering the ruin in bright sunlight. There are no dark corners to be found, the view of the ocean is breathtaking, downright idyllic, and yet nobody wishes to stay long. There are no deaths, no disappearances, but something keeps people away. Nobody is comfortable within the crumbling walls. 

You don’t know why you are standing on the overgrown dais of the ruins, staring out at the remains of a world you only ever read of in books. You feel uncomfortable, watched. Your heart is pounding. 

You just wanted to check it out for yourself, see why all the old folk talk of ghosts, maybe even find one yourself. But now, standing here, you really wish you were anywhere else in the world. There is something ancient here, something that isn’t cracked marble or overgrown walls. Something that isn’t as dead as it should be. 

You shudder and promptly rush down from the dais and towards the edge of the ruins. You think you hear steps behind you, pursuing you, and you run faster. The wind rushes past your face, louder than you think it should be. You leap over a pile of stone and stumble against one of the many trees surrounding this place. 

You don’t feel safe, but the footsteps are gone. There is nobody there with you. The ruin lies as silent as it was when you first came up the hill. You feel cold. You won’t stay, you think you don’t want to ever return. Maybe those old folk are right. You turn your back and climb down, towards home.

-

As the hasty feet of yet another explorer recede, there is a low sound of despair, like the croaking of old wood giving way. It doesn’t echo, yet fills the space with unmistakable grief. “Oh, don’t be like that,” says a voice, light and cheerful amidst the sunny ruin. “Someone else will come.” 

“They were so close.” This voice is deep, barely a voice at all, words rumbling through the floor like an earthquake. There is no soul around to hear the mourning within it, to wonder at the torment its tone betrays.

“Do cheer up. Can’t you feel it? There is something in the air.” As if summoned by the soft voice, a gentle breeze brushes through the trees.

“Age has made you go rather odd.” There is fond exasperation in this third voice. Were anybody around to hear, they might smile simply at its sound. Of course, were anybody here they likely would feel little else than utter terror.

“Well, age has made you rather boring,” comes a fourth voice, and there are faint steps to be heard. There is no wanderer, no curious soul to make them, nor to listen to them and seek their creator.

“Have a little faith,” the first voice says as a bird settles on an apple tree hanging over one of the remaining walls. The bird chirps. “We shall be freed before the century closes.”

“What cold comfort, sister dearest.” 

“Oh, hush. You will see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a [narnia tumblr](https://bloodybigwardrobe.tumblr.com/) and am also active on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notanycritter). feel free to drop by and talk to me :D


	2. the visitor

Caspian doesn’t know why he’s doing this. Well, no, he knows precisely why he is doing this, but refuses to acknowledge the stupidity of his reason. He never thought he would be so easily swayed by peer pressure, of all things. 

Above him, the old ruin near their hometown looms, and he straightens his shoulders. All he has to do is climb up and wave down to his tormentors. And then he can have a peaceful day for once. With the prospect of a quiet afternoon to himself at the forefront of his mind, he starts making his way up the steep slope leading up to the old castle. 

It’s not an easy path up, but beautiful regardless. The grass is lush, but damp enough to make his feet slide with every step. The morning sun breaks through the tree cover here and there, and the sound of the ocean breaking at the bottom of the cliff would relax any restless soul. Caspian forces himself to take in the landscape, rather than think of all the tales of ghosts in the ruin. There are birds in the trees, accompanying his journey in quite an idyllic fashion. 

The forest changes from the one he knows to trees that don’t blend with the rest of the woods. Caspian stops short with surprise at the sight of bright red apples only a foot or two above his head. It’s quite beautiful, he has to admit. The trees are further apart here, leaving room for the sun to create spots of warmth in the cool shade of the forest. Caspian continues, albeit slower. If he is already doing this, he might as well get some enjoyment out of it. It’s very peaceful, he notes with a satisfied smile. 

Caspian doesn’t know what to expect of the ruin, not really. When he suddenly feels a shiver run down his spine, he stops short. Just beyond the trees, he can see a pile of white stone. He thinks it might be a collapsed archway. He grits his teeth and looks down at his feet, hoping to steel himself. His eyes catch onto a white flagstone just in front of his right foot.

He tells himself his shiver was just due to the morning wind that must be sharper up here than down at the beach. Balling his hands into fists, he continues on. 

One flagstone turns into two, turns into what clearly used to be a pathway up towards the current bane of Caspian’s existence. Caspian doesn’t allow himself to linger when he reaches what he can just barely recognise as the first wall. He pushes past into the ruin proper with a loud exhale. 

There is no sudden rush of horrible whispers, no laughter or any other sound that the stories might mention. Distantly, waves are crashing against the rock of the cliffs. Wind rustles the leaves of the surrounding trees. The sun shines down without being unbearable.

It’s a beautiful sight. Caspian’s shoulders slump with relief, and he lets his eyes roam the mess around him. 

He can’t recognise much, most of the structure taken down either by the first attack on the castle or the passage of time. Caspian runs hesitant fingers over one of the walls that reach just above his shoulder. White dust and dirt cover his fingertips. 

He continues picking his way through the ancient rubble, his mission temporarily forgotten in the wake of how stunning it really is up here. His breaths come easy, and his steps become relaxed. He steps around a hole in the ground and pauses at the next stones. There are remnants of what must have been elaborate moulding with stone leaves running along the top of it. 

Then Caspian hears something. His heart leaps into his throat. He presses his back flat against the crumbled wall. Just ahead, there are footsteps, moving away. Caspian forces himself to take a look around the wall’s edge and finds nothing. The ruin ahead lies as empty as it has been the past few minutes. A thought that makes him quite furious occurs to Caspian.

He steps away from the wall and glares into the empty space. “If that’s one of you assholes trying to psych me out, I am going to kill you.” His voice sounds strange as he speaks, and Caspian has the overwhelming feeling that he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and whirls around. 

The ivy on one of the most intact walls he has come across swings in the wind, no person in sight. Caspian lets out a frustrated sigh and pushes further in. “What am I doing?” He mutters to himself. 

The ruin opens up into a large free space now. Caspian can see what he thinks might have been a dais, a few steps leading up to a broad platform. The ivy-covered wall is just off to the right, dividing the space. Caspian is relatively sure that if he were to step around that wall, he would have a perfect vantage spot to show the boys that he’s made it to the top. The idea that this would soon be over spurs him on and he walks to the dais without any further incidents. He keeps his eyes on the wall. It would provide perfect cover for some bullies trying to give him a scare. 

Caspian takes the steps in one go. He is about to cross the dais towards the wall when the wind picks up. The ivy starts moving more as if there is a hollow space behind it that the wind is pushing into. The thought fills Caspian with both fright and curiosity. The ivy shifts and he sees wood peek out from underneath it.

“Huh.” There is a door behind the ivy. Before he really decides on it, Caspian is already moving closer. Vines are tangled around a horribly rusted doorknob. He racks his brain for any stories about doors within the ruins but comes up empty. Maybe nobody has made it this far, he muses and reaches out. 

With a yell of pain, he pulls back. Touching the knob felt like he buried his hand in a frozen river. His palm is red like he was burned. He half expects to hear laughter, but the ruin remains quiet. The wind seems to have picked up. 

Caspian frowns down at the door. He doesn’t want to leave, he realises, but to go further in. He needs to know what is behind it. He attempts to curl his hand and winces. The pain very much resembles the feeling of having spent too long out in the snow. He steps away from the door and takes a seat. 

Tucking his hand under his armpit, he contemplates the door. The wood must be rotten by now. It’s a miracle that the door is still locking anything away. If he can’t touch the handle, there should be an easy enough way to get through regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my fingers got away from me so this turned out longer than expected! which means i'm splitting it up into at least one more chapter instead of the original two chapters this was going to be. 
> 
> i have a [narnia tumblr](https://bloodybigwardrobe.tumblr.com/) and am also active on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notanycritter). feel free to drop by and talk to me :D


	3. the discovery

Having quite easily broken the door down with a stick, Caspian stares into the void he uncovered with renewed unease. It’s too dark. He doesn’t have any means of light, didn’t think he would need it on a day this sunny. He didn’t come up here to explore a pitch-black room with gods’ know what inside. And yet.

The  _ something _ that caused him to break down the door hasn’t left. In fact, Caspian feels it even stronger now. Some part of him desperately wants to go inside. 

“It’s alright.” 

Caspian feels his blood freeze. He whirls around but finds himself still the only person in sight. The voice was gentle, far too kind for it to be someone from home. Caspian looks back into the darkness and suddenly understands. It came from inside there. It must have. “Hello?” He belatedly asks. There is no response, but the dark seems less horrible now. Caspian can just make out stairs leading down. 

This seems like a horrible idea, Caspian distantly thinks to himself and steps into the stairwell. One hand to the wall to his right, he starts descending the stairs with great care. Slowly, his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, and Caspian begins to see shapes materialise in the darkness. Ten steps down, he pauses.

There are figures at the bottom of the steps. They stand perfectly still, statuesque. Caspian’s heart sticks in his throat. Statues are not out of place in a castle ruin, he has to remind himself. They don’t need to be ghosts. It’s just statues.

“Hello?” He finds himself asking regardless. His voice reverberates in the space stretching out in front of him. He can hear it for far too long, echoing right back at him. Clenching his jaw, Caspian moves further down. His feet hit the even floor, and across from him, stone crumbles away. He starts back and falls onto the stairs as sunlight pierces the darkness. 

A piece of the room’s ceiling had given way, Caspian realises when his eyes adjust to the sudden change in lighting. He is quick to scan his surroundings with new eyes. 

He is standing in what must have been the treasure chamber once upon a time. There are suits of armour, lining a path towards the other end of the room. Various padlocked chests stand next to and behind them. Above the chests are single shelves lined with jewellery and gems, catching the sunlight in a beautiful display of glittering colours. Caspian’s mouth hangs open. He’s never seen this much wealth in one place, much less so unguarded, unused. 

His eyes catch on the far wall, and he moves closer. The outside world is almost entirely forgotten in the wake of his find. In front of him, lined up on the wall with more care than anything else in the room, are a curious array of objects; a shield, a sword in its sheath, a bow and quiver, a single horn, a dagger and a belt with a bottle filled with red liquid attached to it. A thick layer of dust covers them, hiding any shine they likely held in their day. Caspian wonders why they would be displayed like this, what significance they must have held. Before he can catch himself, he reaches out a hand to run a finger across the shield.

“Careful, lad,” a deep voice fills his mind and Caspian is not ashamed to admit that he screams. He whirls around hastily. Nobody has entered the room behind him, the suits of armour stand as still as ever. Caspian’s alone. He turns back and stares at the line he made in the dust. Slowly, he places his fingertips on the shield again. 

There is silence for a beat. Then, “You can truly hear us?” The voice cracks with an emotion Caspian can’t decipher. He casts his eyes about the place again. Still nothing. “You can.” Caspian hears awe now. He focuses on the shield.

“Yes,” he finally responds. 

“All of us?” 

Caspian frowns, then shakes his head. “One.” Silence follows and Caspian is starting to think he imagined the exchange when the voice speaks again. 

“Can you reach the quiver to your right?” 

Despite his confusion and the way his heart is hammering in his chest, Caspian reaches out his other hand and places it onto the quiver without hesitation. A new voice speaks, gentler than the first. “What can you hear now?” 

A strange excitement floods Caspian. “Two!” 

“You were right, Edmund,” says the first voice with a clear laugh ringing in it. “I cannot-” the voice breaks off. 

“Be at ease, Peter,” comes the second voice. Caspian feels a shiver running up his spine, but he keeps his hands on the objects and his eyes focused on the wall in front of him. Distantly, he thinks he should be running. “What’s your name, dear boy?” 

“Caspian,” he breathes, never once thinking that he should keep secrets from the voice. 

“Caspian, do not be afraid. We will not hurt you.” 

The fear of malevolent spirits has already fled Caspian’s mind, but he nods regardless. “Who are you?” 

“We are the regents of this castle.” The first voice is composed now, steady and Caspian can believe that this once was a king’s voice, that the other once was a queen’s. 

“Were,” the queen responds with sadness, and Caspian’s grip on the quiver tightens with emotions he isn’t sure are his own. 

“How is this possible?” 

“When they tried to take us away from our country we would not let them do it without a fight,” the queen says. Anger briefly sweeps through Caspian, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. “And so our enemy called for magic to take us away instead. Now we live tied to the ruin they turned our home into, without truly taking a breath or feeling our hearts beat.” 

What a horrible fate, Caspian thinks. “I’m sorry,” he says out loud. 

“It’s quite alright. Caspian, would you like to help us?” 

The question makes him blink his eyes open again. “What?” 

“We are cursed to wander halls that no longer stand until a living soul calls for us. Nobody has ever made it this far, nobody has ever spoken to us like this.” 

“You are the first to come this close,” adds the king, “that has got to mean something.” 

“What- What does it mean?” 

“You can save us Caspian. Release us from this enchantment.” The eagerness in the king’s voice feels almost childlike.

Caspian’s heart leaps into his throat with a mix of awe and terror. “What would releasing you do?” 

“That we do not know. Our sister believes that we will live once again, allowed to finally breathe and walk within the world. We might be allowed to die at last, as our time has long since gone.” 

“How many of you are there?”

“Four,” answers the queen.

Caspian takes a deep breath, then another. He grimaces at the feeling of dust inside his mouth. “Will you hurt others if you’re allowed to come to life?” 

He can’t figure out which emotion it is that slams into him at the question, but he squeezes his eyes shut again and holds still. Fear that is definitely his own climbs back into his heart.

“We will not.” The king’s voice is sharp, clearly holding back something.

“We just wish to be free,” the queen says. “In whichever form that freedom will come. Please,” and her voice is so full of hope that Caspian feels like he might cry. He can't imagine refusing.

“How do I help?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a [narnia tumblr](https://bloodybigwardrobe.tumblr.com/) and am also active on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notanycritter). feel free to drop by for a chat <3


	4. the return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for the amount of time this took to post! my multi-chapter curse came back to haunt me, but i've fought past it :D

Caspian is somewhat surprised at the simplicity of it all. “That’s it?” He doesn’t mean to say it, but it slips out all the same. 

The queen’s voice is a mix of amused and uncertain when she answers. “We hope so. It certainly feels precious little, but my horn has its own magic.” 

“Well, it’s worth a try.” Caspian reaches out and gently removes the ivory horn from its display. The king’s voice is gone, both of Caspian’s hands now wrapped around the queen’s horn with awe. “It’s beautiful.” 

“It is, isn’t it.” 

Caspian looks up from the remarkable craftsmanship. He feels nervous, his chest tight. Shaking his head briefly, he squares his shoulders. “I hope this brings you peace.” And he blows into it. 

The sound reverberates around the space, beautiful and much louder than Caspian anticipated. He jumps and drops the horn from his mouth. The sound doesn’t stop. Caspian’s ears start ringing, and he slams both his hands over his ears. Dust rains down on him from the ceiling. Gradually, the sound fades, but Caspian keeps his hands where they are. He scans the treasure chamber. 

He doesn’t know if he is relieved or disappointed when he finds himself to still be the only person standing inside the room. He looks down at the horn dangling from his wrist and waits for the queen’s voice to come. “Hello?” He asks after a minute. She doesn’t speak, and Caspian swallows the lump in his throat. It worked. The ancient monarchs must have been allowed to finally pass on. 

Gently, Caspian hangs the horn back in its original spot. Without expecting much, he reaches for the crystal bottle next to the horn. 

“It worked!” He jumps back in surprise at the voice. “Oh, it worked!” It’s muffled, distant. Caspian whirls around to the stairs with his heart hammering. Before his mind has fully caught up, he is rushing towards the exit. He finds himself taking the steps two at a time to break back out into fresh air. Once outside, Caspian freezes. 

On the dais that he had crossed to get to the door is a huddle of four very alive people, sunk to the floor in a tangle of limbs. He spots two men and two women, each clinging tightly to the other. All of them are wearing armour, not unlike the suits in the treasure chamber. Sobs and laughter are all the sounds Caspian can make out coming from them. He takes a step back towards the stairs, suddenly feeling more out of place than throughout his entire exploration. 

Before he can disappear back down the stairs to give them their space, one of the queens whips her head into his direction. Her face breaks out into a brilliant smile and Caspian finds himself stopping. She jumps out of the pile and rushes towards him. 

“Oh, Caspian, you did it!” It’s not the queen that spoke to him before, her voice even lighter and full of laughter. Caspian finds himself embraced tightly. “You broke the spell!” 

“Lucy, let the poor boy breathe,” speaks the other queen, shaky with tears. Queen Lucy releases him and steps back with a giggle. Caspian is about to say that it’s quite alright when Queen Lucy folds in on herself. Caspian jerks forward to catch her. 

“Are you alright?” Queen Lucy blinks up at him slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Lucy!” Caspian looks up to find the other monarchs stumbling towards them, all looking quite pale. 

“Oh, dear,” Queen Lucy speaks. The words seem to take more effort than they should, and Caspian helps her sit down properly. The other royals fall to the ground next to them. 

“I fear the magic returned us to our battle-worn forms,” the dark-haired king says with a voice Caspian has not heard from the treasures downstairs. His breath rattles in an entirely unhealthy manner. “I feel wretched.” 

Caspian worries his lip. “Will you be alright?” 

Queen Lucy sighs and scrambles to lean against the others. “Caspian, could you do one more thing for us?” 

“Anything to help.” Caspian doesn’t know why, but he feels responsible for these people out of time. He brought them back, didn’t he?

The monarchs give him thin smiles. “There should be a diamond bottle downstairs, where you talked to us. Can you fetch it?” 

“Are you certain, Lucy?” The voice that had been bound to the shield, belonging to the blond king, asks through gritted teeth. Caspian frowns when he sees how each sovereign seems to be holding a different part of their bodies. They all look quite beaten, and Caspian feels his heart speed up at the sight of blood.

“It has been centuries, has it not? Four drops shall not be missed.” 

Caspian pushes up to his feet. “I suppose it is another magic?” Queen Lucy nods with a grace Caspian thinks she should not be able to wield in her state. Caspian nods in return and hastily fetches the bottle from the wall. 

Kneeling back down, he uncorks the bottle and hands it to Queen Lucy with careful hands. Then he sits back, utterly fascinated. Each royal lets merely a drop fall onto their tongue, and Caspian watches as colour returns to their faces. A bruise covering the blond-haired king’s face fades from the angry black. The dark-haired king’s breath evens out, the queen with the gentle voice sits up straighter. Queen Lucy rearranges herself with a relieved laugh.

“I suppose we should have suspected returning to our bodies after centuries would not be pleasant.” Then she gasps and points an accusing finger at the others. “You never thought to introduce us!” 

The black-haired queen blinks. “Oh. Oh, you’re quite right, how rude!” She turns to the blond king, who is adjusting his armour at her side. “Would you care to do the honours, dearest brother?” 

The man gives a charming smile and gets up. He reaches down both his hands and the queens grab them with laughter. Caspian scrambles to stand up as well, reaching out an instinctual hand to help the other king. His gesture is accepted with an amused huff. 

The blond king sweeps down in an elegant bow. “I am High King Peter, Lord of Cair Paravel, the great castle whose ruins we now stand in.” He holds out his hand to the black-haired queen. “This is my sister, Queen Susan.” Queen Susan curtsies with an amused glint in her eyes. “Next to her, you have my brother King Edmund.” The raven-haired king also bows, a small smirk on his face. “And most enthusiastically, this is Queen Lucy.” Queen Lucy curtsies with a bright grin. 

Caspian finds himself with the urge to bow and does so clumsily. King Peter nods at him in acknowledgement. 

“You, Caspian, have broken the curse with which we have most cruelly been tied to our crumbling home. For this, we are most grateful and shall be in great debt to you.” The words catch Caspian off-guard, and he gapes. Then he starts shaking his head, baffled. 

“Oh! It’s okay, I uh- I-” He pauses and swallows. “I’m glad I could help. There’s no need for-” He cuts himself off and waves his hand in hopes that it brings across the message better than his stuttered words. The mere thought of these kings and queens of old feeling indebted to him feels like a weight he would not shoulder well. He is just a boy dared to wander an abandoned ruin, he hadn’t come to save anybody. 

King Edmund clasps his hands behind his back. “Do not worry yourself, Caspian. We do not intend to become a burden.” There is a glint in his eyes that makes Caspian’s shoulders relax ever so slightly. “Now, what is the world like these days? I suspect we have missed quite a lot of history.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this little fic! it all started with an aesthetic and doesn't have much meat but it was very fun to write. thank you for checking it out! you can find me on my [narnia tumblr](https://bloodybigwardrobe.tumblr.com/) and on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notanycritter).


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